


Lengthening Shadows under an Orange Sky

by mayangel7



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:39:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayangel7/pseuds/mayangel7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seungcheol hears a voice through the walls of the practice room one night, and it leaves him curious about the boy on the other side of the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lengthening Shadows under an Orange Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for jamjamexchange. Many thanks to N for beta-reading. Lyrics are from FT Island's Orange Sky.

_There’s no such thing as forever.  
You smiled and asked me  
Why wouldn’t there be?_

 

Seungcheol doesn’t notice the song at first. It’s soft and gentle, just barely audible. He hears it through the walls of a nearby practice room, and the more he pays attention to it, the clearer it sounds, the pleasant blur of syllables forming words and phrases.

It’s the perfect song to fall asleep to. Seungcheol closes his eyes, hoping to take a quick nap during his break. 

The calmness only lasts for a moment. There’s a pause, like an intake of breath, and then the genre changes abruptly. It’s still the same song, but it’s louder, the voice distinctive and powerful, the notes an octave higher. 

There’s no background music, but somehow, that makes the song better, each line filled with raw emotion. Seungcheol gets up, his tiredness forgotten as he follows the voice. It’s not unusual to hear exceptional vocalists in the company, but there’s something about this voice that makes Seungcheol curious. 

The door to the practice room is slightly open, enough so that Seungcheol can look into it. The boy has his back to the door and earphones in his ears. Seungcheol can’t see his face, but he can’t take his eyes off of him. 

Seungcheol can tell when the song is nearing its climax, can feel the buildup just below the surface, can see the way the boy seems to brace himself. He delivers the highest note perfectly, cutting cleanly through the air and stealing Seungcheol’s breath.

It cuts off abruptly shortly afterwards, like someone had hit the stop button. Seungcheol waits in the silence that follows, waiting for the boy to continue or start another song. 

Neither one of those things happens. The boy just keeps facing straight ahead, his headphones in, his breathing somewhat irregular. Seungcheol wants to wait longer, but he has dance practice in a few minutes and there are people giving him weird looks for standing outside a practice room for so long.

Yet even later, with the music sounding through the speakers and echoing in the room, Seungcheol can’t stop thinking about that voice. It’s hard to concentrate when he’s thinking about the boy sitting alone in the practice room, when he’s wondering why he hadn’t noticed him before. 

Later that evening, as he’s leaving the building, Seungcheol walks by the practice room. He’s hoping that the boy from earlier would still be there. But the room is dark and empty, void of any signs that anyone had been inside.

Seungcheol had expected that; it’s well past midnight, and there aren’t many trainees left in the building. But he still feels a little disappointed as he looks into the room again, staring at the bright moon just outside the window and remembering the boy sitting here just a few hours ago. 

 

_The reason why  
I stretched out my hand._

 

Seungcheol sees him nearly a month afterwards. It’s early in the morning, when the streets are just becoming crowded with people headed for work and class. 

Seungcheol’s just a few steps from the front door of the company building when he happens to turn back and look across the street. He locks eyes with a boy, who, judging from his uniform, is still in high school. 

They only make eye contact for a few seconds before the boy looks away, but it’s long enough that Seungcheol is almost certain that he was the one who had been singing in the practice room all those weeks ago. Seungcheol had only gotten to see him from the back, but there’s something about the way that he holds himself and the way he walks.

Seungcheol remains standing before the company building as the boy crosses the street. He’s certain that he hadn’t met the other before, but now would be a good time as any to introduce himself. 

The sound of a horn jerks Seungcheol from his thoughts, and he looks up to see a bus headed straight for the boy. Seungcheol opens his mouth. He thinks that he’s screaming, but he can’t be certain. He already knows that it’s too late, a sense of dread settling in his throat as he locks eyes with the boy. 

Time seems to stand still when Seungcheol meets the boy’s eyes. Even from this far away, he can make out the fear and confusion in them. But it’s not the fear of death or of the bus that is just a fraction of a second from hitting him. 

There’s a loud screeching of breaks as the bus attempts to stop, the friction no doubt enough to leave black streaks on the road. It’s not enough, not with the speed that it’s going, and Seungcheol really wants to look away from the scene. 

He blinks, once, and the bus has already passed, continuing down the street. The boy is nowhere to be found, and it’s like he just disappeared. There isn’t the usual fuss that usually follows an accident, not even a crowd. It’s like no one else had noticed, and the only pieces of evidence that remain of the near accident are the skid marks on the road. 

Seungcheol shakes his head and blinks again, but the skid marks are still there. He wonders if he’d just dreamed the whole incident, but there’s no way he’s imagining the thick black lines in the middle of the road. 

He can’t stop thinking about the boy’s eyes, the fear evident in his features, but he hadn’t seemed panicked. 

Seungcheol turns away and walks into the trainee building, trying to forget what had just happened. It’s easier to pretend that the incident was just a figure of his imagination. 

“What’s wrong?” Seokmin asks, staring at Seungcheol when he walks into the room. “You look like you saw a ghost.” 

Seungcheol shakes his head, smiling as he sits down on the floor next to Seokmin. That’s one way to put it. “It’s nothing.” 

 

_A helpless life can still shine  
That was what you had taught me._

 

By the time Seungcheol meets the boy again, he's already convinced himself that what he had seen that day was only an illusion, a trick of the eye. It's an impossible idea, anyway, especially when the boy is standing in front of him, talking to some of the other trainees.

His name is Boo Seungkwan, and he's going to be in the same training group as Seungcheol. Seungcheol still remembers his face from their few seconds of eye contact, still remembers his voice from the few seconds he'd heard the other sing. There's something effortlessly captivating about Seungkwan's laugh, the way he fits in with the rest of the group.

It doesn't take long for them to get closer, in the way that trainees put in the same group are bound to meet each other sooner or later.

Seungkwan sits down next to Seungcheol one day after practice, his breaths coming fast and heavy. He leans his head back against the mirrors and closes his eyes, swallowing before opening them again to stare up at the ceiling.

Seungcheol hesitates in reaching out to him, wavering on the line between wanting to know this boy better and not wanting to be too assertive. When Seungkwan sits up again, Seungcheol slides a water bottle towards him. There's a moment when Seungkwan just stares at the water bottle, like he's surprised by Seungcheol's offer, and then he smiles as he takes it.

"Thanks," he says, meeting Seungcheol's eyes as he takes a long drink. Seungcheol waits for a flicker of recognition, but there's only gratitude as Seungkwan hands the bottle back to him.

Seungcheol swallows, uncapping the water bottle. He hadn't really expected Seungkwan to recognize him from a few seconds of eye contact dozens of meters away. 

Seungkwan, he learns, had gotten into the company through his voice. Sometimes, Seungcheol can still hear some parts of the song that Seungkwan had sung, but he can't remember all of it, and it leaves him wanting to hear more. He doesn't hear Seungkwan singing again, though, not even late at night when most others have left.

He hears Seungkwan during the day, hears his laugh and his jokes and, whenever they happen to be sitting next to each other, feels the warm press of Seungkwan's skin against his own.

It doesn't take much to reach out, to offer Seungkwan a hand at the end of the practice. It comes a little more naturally each time Seungcheol does so, and it doesn't matter that Seungkwan had come a little later than everyone else.

"Thanks," Seungkwan says, taking Seungcheol's hand as he gets up.

He doesn't let go immediately, and keeps holding on even as Mingyu comes from the other side and drapes his arm around Seungkwan's shoulders.

There are still so many uncertainties ahead of them, like their debut date, their success in the next cut, but it hardly matters when they're together, living one day at a time.

 

_Do you still treasure what we had felt that day?_

 

"You're still here?" Seungcheol flinches as the light overhead flicks on. It takes him a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness, the presence of another person in the room as Seungkwan sits down next to him. "You do know that we have a break, right?"

The break is barely two weeks long, but it's a blessing nonetheless. They've been counting the days until they could leave, take some time to rest and hide from the worst days of winter. Today is only the first day of the break, but the company is so much quieter, almost unusually so. It's almost like the place at midnight, only right now, the hallways are bright and there's sunlight slipping through the windows.

"Just here to practice," Seungcheol says, stretching his legs out in front of him. It almost feels weird having this whole room to himself, being surrounded by mirrors instead of a dozen other human beings. "I won't be leaving until tomorrow."

"Really? Me too." Seungkwan grins, sitting down next to Seungcheol on the floor. "Are you just going to stay here all day?"

"Probably not. I wanted to go around the city, actually."

"Let's go." Seungkwan gets up, turning to face Seungcheol. "You can always practice later."

"Where are we going?" Seungcheol asks, relenting as he gets up and walks out of the room with Seungkwan. He'd wanted to go over some moves before leaving, but that can wait until later. He's fine with this, right now--the natural hold that Seungkwan has on Seungcheol's hand, his bright and easygoing personality that effortlessly bridges the space between them.

"Somewhere I found earlier," Seungkwan replies vaguely.

He leads Seungcheol down a street that Seungcheol has never walked through before. It curves around a few buildings, running adjacent to a small stream, and eventually ends in a dirt trail that intersects with some railroad tracks.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Seungkwan asks. His voice is softer now, fitting in with the calm atmosphere of the place. The traffic is almost inaudible from here, and although they're barely a few blocks away from the trainee building, it feels like they're in a world of their own.

Seungkwan walks on the edge of the railroad tracks, teetering on the edge and holding his hands out.

"Careful," Seungcheol cautions, walking up behind him and steadying him when he wavers.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" Seungkwan says, hopping off the tracks. "I usually come here after a long day. It's very relaxing."

Seungcheol hums in agreement, sitting down next to Seungkwan in the grass. The stream in front of them is surprisingly clean, free of the litter that's scattered in the city streets.

"I haven't brought anyone here before," Seungkwan admits, a hint of wonder in his tone.

Seungcheol hesitates for a moment, unsure about the boundaries between them, before leaning his head against Seungkwan's shoulder. He feels Seungkwan stiffen for a moment, caught off guard, but then Seungkwan lets out a soft laugh and pats Seungcheol's head.

Seungcheol dozes off like that, lulled to sleep by the steadiness of Seungkwan's breathing and the tune of a song that he's humming under his breath.

 

_Under the orange sky,  
I tried to find the reason to be alive._

 

They try to keep their practices as light as possible. There’s always some playing around in between breaks, something to break the otherwise serious atmosphere of the room. They’re pretty comfortable with each other now, having spent hours working together. After all, they’ve all made it so far because they share a common interest, a passion, in dance and music. It’s not going to be easy, but they have each other for support along the way. 

Or at least, that’s the goal. They’re only human beings, so there’s bound to be cracks and imperfections along the way. There’s always the danger between not pushing enough and pushing too hard. A few hours of sleep isn’t quite enough to carry all of them through the day or to hold all of their tempers at a bare minimum. There are little disagreements along the way, long periods of icy tension between two members. 

Seungcheol has teetered on that line before, thoroughly exhausted and tired of constantly being corrected on his tone or his position. A good portion of their teamwork comes from their comfortableness with each other, so they point out each other’s faults. It works, but it’s not always the best strategy. 

There are other days, though, when the feeling hums under his skin, when he can feel the connection with the music. It’s on one of those days when he’s stayed in the practice room long into the night that he finds Seungkwan sitting alone in a practice room. 

Seungcheol walks up to the door, getting ready to walk in, until he hears a faint sniffle. It’s enough to stop him in his tracks, and he watches as Seungkwan reaches up to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. 

He places his hand on the doorknob, wondering whether or not he should walk into the room. Seungkwan had seemed unusually quiet after practice, not talking to anyone else as he’d walked away, and Seungcheol is afraid of overstepping his boundaries. 

But he also doesn’t want to let Seungkwan cry alone. More than anything else, they’re teammates, and they should have enough trust in each other to show their moments of weakness. 

Seungcheol starts to push open the door, but just then, Seungkwan seems to waver before his eyes. For a moment, Seungcheol thinks that he’s so tired that his vision is blurring, but when he blinks, Seungkwan is gone. The room is empty, and Seungcheol’s hands only come in contact with empty air when he reaches out. 

Seungcheol drops his hands back to his side, calling out a hesitant, “Seungkwan?” There’s no response, only stifling silence. 

Seungcheol swallows hard, taking a step back out of the room. He’s certain that he’d seen Seungkwan in the room. There’s no way that could have been his imagination. He thinks back to the first time he’d seen Seungkwan’s face, the way Seungkwan had seemed to disappear in the middle of the road. 

Maybe—maybe there’s something more, Seungcheol thinks. He walks out of the room for now, closing the door as he files the thought away. 

 

_The voice that I miss so much  
What is it trying to say?_

 

“Have you ever wanted to give up?” Seungkwan asks. They’re sitting on their dorm’s balcony, holding cups of tea in their hands as they watch the sun set behind the city skyline. Seungcheol turns his head to look at him, but Seungkwan is staring into the distance. “Just leave this life behind and go back to what you were doing before?” 

Seungcheol can’t remember what it was like before. He can’t even remember a life without all of the other members, so many other limbs crowded in the same place. He can’t imagine not singing and dancing, rapping and performing with his teammates. 

“I have,” Seungcheol admits. He thinks they all have before, as little as they want to admit it. There are times when the responsibilities are just too much, when the end doesn’t seem to be in sight, when it seems like they’re slipping backward instead of continuing forward. “But I don’t think I can.” He’s been here long enough that he doesn’t think he could leave without the rest of his teammates. 

“I’m so tired,” Seungkwan says. He takes a sip of his tea, sighing into the cup. “I kind of want to leave.” He looks up, catching Seungcheol’s eyes. “If I left, would you run away with me?” 

“You want to leave permanently?” Seungcheol asks, and Seungkwan smiles as he shakes his head. 

“I don’t know yet.” He takes in a shaky breath, setting his cup of tea on the ground. “I think I just need some fresh air, away from… this. Do you think anyone would care? I’m not even exceptionally talented in anything.” 

Seungcheol frowns, looking down. “Of course we would care. And that’s not true, I would—I like you,” he blurts out, looking up as he says the words. _I like you even if you aren’t perfect,_ he almost says, but he realizes that there’s no one out here with him. 

Seungcheol is positive that Seungkwan had been sitting next to him just split seconds ago, looking too small for the world. He’d heard Seungkwan speaking to him, could have touched him if he’d just reached out a little. 

“Seungkwan?” Seungcheol calls out. He’s reminded of the day, just a few weeks ago, when Seungkwan had disappeared from the practice room. He’s tired, of course, but not nearly tired enough to be hallucinating. _Would you run away with me?_ Seungkwan had asked, and Seungcheol repeats, “I like you,” to the empty air and the darkening skies. 

There’s no response, no one here to hear his words. Seungcheol waits a moment longer before picking up both cups and taking them back inside. 

 

_My heart under this orange sky._

 

“Hey, have you seen Seungkwan?” Jihoon asks. It’s early in the morning, and Seungcheol is barely awake enough to hear his question as he stumbles into the kitchen. 

Seungcheol blinks, hesitating before shaking his head. “Not today, no.” He wonders briefly if he should tell Jihoon about what had happened on the balcony the night before, but he decides against it. Jihoon probably wouldn’t believe him. Seungcheol doesn’t even believe himself. 

“Well, if you see him, tell him we have practice in an hour.” Jihoon frowns, looking over at the clock hanging on the living room wall. “Which means you should get ready, too.” 

Even when the twelve of them get to their dance room for a group practice, Seungkwan hasn’t showed up yet. A few of the members ask about him, and there’s a noticeable hole in the choreography that’s reserved for Seungkwan. He doesn’t show up, though, not even when they’re done. 

Seungcheol sits in a corner during their break, watching the activity around them. No one really seems to be worrying about Seungkwan’s absence. There had been a few questions, of course, but most of the other members had just brushed it off as Seungkwan taking a break for a few days. 

Seungcheol can’t help thinking it’s more than that, though. He wonders if he should have said something else to Seungkwan, if he could have stopped the other from leaving. As much as they try to make up for the gap, it’s still obvious. Jihoon and Seokmin do a good job of taking over Seungkwan’s lines, lip synching along with the background music. It’s Seungkwan’s voice that echoes in Seungcheol’s mind, and he can still remember the small smile that would turn up the corners of Seungkwan’s mouth. 

Maybe it had been the timing, just coincidence that had caused Seungkwan to disappear just as Seungcheol had confessed. But the unknown possibilities still bother him, the lack of any answer causing the silence around him to press in on all sides. There’s no way of telling where Seungkwan is now, no way of telling when Seungcheol will see him again. 

It’s weird, since Seungcheol can’t pinpoint exactly when they got so close, when he had really started developing feelings for Seungkwan. They’ve spent so many hours of their day together that Seungcheol feels like he’s known Seungkwan for a very long time. 

The place almost looks empty without Seungkwan, the absence of one member too noticeable in their formation. Seungcheol finds himself talking to an empty practice room one day, standing outside the door into the room that Seungcheol had been practicing in. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, standing at the doorway of the room and addressing the air. “I won’t bother you again with my feelings if you just come back. I miss you, so please come back.” 

Seungcheol swallows, pulling the door closed as he steps away. The place is quiet, too quiet, and a haunting melody plays in his mind as he walks away. 

 

_You didn’t leave me  
You just left me alone in this place._

 

It’s only been a week, but it feels like it’s been so much longer. The hours seem to drag on, yet there still don’t seem to be enough hours in a day. Usually, Seungcheol can barely stay awake on the ride back home. 

But this time, instead of heading to the bus station, he turns and walks down the other side of the road. He ends up at the place that Seungkwan had taken him not long ago.

Here, it doesn’t feel like much has changed; it’s like time hasn’t passed at all. Seungcheol almost expects Seungkwan to be next to him, standing on the railroad tracks and smiling brightly. There’s no one there, though, just the abandoned tracks stretching into the distance. 

The leaves have changed colors now, green fading into bright shades of orange and red. It won’t be long before they fall onto the ground, covering the ground with irregular patches. It’s like they’re covering up the last traces of summer, leaving a space for winter to come in. 

Seungcheol closes his eyes for a moment, taking in the relative silence of the place. It’s soothing, but after a while, the quiet atmosphere starts to settle unevenly. He can still remember Seungkwan’s humming, his loud laugh that could effortlessly set anyone at ease. But Seungcheol can also remember the lonely back of the boy he’d seen in the practice room that day, the fear that he could see in Seungkwan’s eyes from so many yards away. 

There are so many things that Seungcheol wants to say to Seungkwan, but more than anything, he hopes that Seungkwan will return. 

 

_You are not alone  
This is not the end._

 

It’s been two weeks since Seungcheol has last seen Seungkwan. He can tell that the other members are getting nervous, as there are quite a few speculations as to whether Seungkwan had left or if he was just taking a break. They’ve lost members before, but it’s never been so abrupt, so ambiguous. 

Seungcheol finds Seungkwan when he least expects to. He’s walking out of the building with the other members when he realizes that he’d forgotten his phone. He turns back to get it, and nearly drops it when he sees someone else in the room with him. 

“Seungkwan?” Seungcheol says. He hesitates in place because that can’t be possible, not when Seungkwan has been gone for so long. Seungcheol hadn’t even heard the door open and close, hadn’t even noticed Seungkwan until mere seconds ago. 

“Yeah.” Seungkwan smiles, and it’s his usual bright smile, like he’s unaware of everything that happened in the past few weeks. He takes a step forward, and Seungcheol quickly takes a step back, holding out his hand. 

“Hold on.” Seungkwan’s smile slips off of his face, but Seungcheol shakes his head as he takes a deep breath. “What’s going on? Where were you?” 

Seungkwan freezes for a moment before he sits down on the ground, gesturing for Seungcheol to sit next to him. “It might take a while for me to explain,” Seungkwan says, but Seungcheol sits down anyway. He’s waited for weeks for Seungkwan to come back, and honestly, he’s been curious since the first day he’d seen Seungkwan. 

Seungkwan takes a deep breath, leaning back against the wall. Seungcheol draws small circles on the back of his hand, silently telling him that it’s okay, he’ll listen and he’ll wait, no matter how long it takes. “I have a special ability,” Seungkwan says, his voice soft at first. “I think I’ve always had it, and I didn’t always understand it at first. Whenever I’m scared or stressed, I’ll just disappear. Sometimes I can control it, and sometimes I can’t.” He tells Seungcheol about the times when he was younger and didn’t know what was happening. Sometimes, when the teacher got mad at him, or when the students at his new school wouldn’t talk to him, it seemed like he would just black out. Several times, the school had to notify his parents that he was missing. 

“Missing?” Seungcheol repeats. “Where do you go?” 

“I don’t know.” Seungkwan smiles shakily, his fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm on the wooden floor. “It’s almost like I’m in another dimension, or at least in a dream. It’s mostly darkness, and by the time I come back, time has already passed.” He turns and looks up at Seungcheol. “Did I miss much?” 

“Just two weeks of practice,” Seungcheol says, laughing as Seungkwan makes a face. “You can tell us about this, you know?” he adds. “You can depend on us.” 

“I know. I’m trying to work on it.” 

Seungcheol exhales slowly as he stands. “Come on. We should go back.” It’s too late into the night, and it won’t be long before they have to come back here to start a new day. 

He turns to leave, but freezes in his steps when Seungkwan comes up behind him and gives him a hug. 

“Thank you,” Seungkwan says, his words half muffled into the back of Seungcheol’s sweatshirt. 

“It’s okay.” Seungcheol wonders if Seungkwan can feel how quickly his heart is beating, and he bites down on his lower lip to hold back a smile. “You have us.” _You have me._

 

_Closing my eyes under the orange sky  
Feeling the reason for me to be alive._

 

It’s quiet enough that Seungkwan can hear the balcony door sliding open, the sound of someone’s footsteps across the balcony floor. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Seungkwan asks, walking up beside Seungcheol. 

“Yeah.” Seungcheol sits back in his chair and looks out onto the city through the balcony railing. It looks so still at this time of the day, like a moment captured in a snapshot. “I’m too nervous,” he admits. The sky is already lighting up from the sun’s rays, marking the beginning of a new day. 

“We’ll be fine,” Seungkwan assures him, sitting down in a seat next to his. He reaches out and places his hand over Seungcheol’s. He squeezes it briefly, but he doesn’t let go immediately, letting his hand rest on top of Seungcheol’s. “We’ve come this far already.” 

Seungcheol feels nervous even thinking about their debut, the performance that they’ll be preparing for one last time in just a few hours. He still doesn’t feel prepared enough for it, but it’s not like he’ll ever be prepared enough. It doesn’t matter how many times they’ve done it right already; once they’re on the stage, they’ll only be given one chance. 

“Stop thinking,” Seungkwan says, laughing as Seungcheol turns to look at him. “I can see your thoughts going in circles.” 

“Do you remember the last time we were out here?” Seungcheol blurts out. “That probably wasn’t the best time,” he continues quickly, when Seungkwan doesn’t respond immediately. It’s probably not a good time now, either, but he’s already brought it up. “I don’t know if you heard it, but…” 

“I heard you.” There’s a small smile on Seungkwan’s lips, barely there, barely noticeable, like the hesitant rays of the sun at dawn. “I didn’t get to respond then, but I like you too.” There’s no doubt in his words, nothing but resoluteness in his eyes. Then Seungkwan smiles, pulling Seungcheol up with him as he stands. “Come on, let’s go inside. We don’t have much more time left.” It won’t be long before the other members wake up, and there will be the usual fight to be the first to use the bathroom and eat breakfast. 

There will be more time later, though, after their debut stage, while the blinding starlight has yet to fade from their eyes. Maybe then, Seungcheol can tell Seungkwan everything he’s wanted to tell him, and maybe then, Seungkwan will respond with everything they’ve never had a chance to say. Seungcheol keeps those words for now, capturing this moment in his memories as he follows Seungkwan back inside.


End file.
